


a love that was really something (not just the idea of something)

by nostalgics



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Oops, and a ski instructor, everything is gay, post-canon? semi disregarded whatever i felt like, quinn is a writer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 04:15:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgics/pseuds/nostalgics
Summary: "Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time." - Maya Angelou—quinn disappears. and years later, she and rachel reunite in the most unexpected of places. this time, she decides that she deserves love.





	a love that was really something (not just the idea of something)

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from the poem "why she disappeared" by taylor swift, and will be referenced to throughout the work

Quinn yawns, stretching out the kinks in her back, before slowly padding toward the large windows in her bedroom, tugging open the dark curtains. It’s still dark out, the sun barely starting to rise over the mountains, a breathtaking view obscured slightly by the thin layer of condensation that formed on the windows overnight.

It’s starting to cool again, and within weeks it will likely snow, in time for the beginning of ski season. After graduating from Yale, Quinn finds herself moving across the country to a small town in the mountains. It’s been a few months since she’s moved here, and she still hasn’t tired of the view outside her bedroom window. She doesn’t think she ever will.

Sometime shortly after moving to Colorado, Quinn became a morning person. She’s always woken up early in high school, though to be fair, the early morning Cheerio practices weren’t exactly optional, and she didn’t exactly enjoy them. And she would be lying if she said she didn’t sleep through some of her morning classes during her years at Yale.

Now, it’s like she finally enjoys the days more than she dreads them. She likes Colorado, it’s good for her. She’s glad she made it out of Lima, away from the people, and away from the person she once was.

Quinn walks through her house, opening all the curtains in her home. She lives alone now, in a small modern-style cabin tucked into the Rocky Mountains. There are papers scattered across the kitchen counters, her laptop and a half-finished mug of tea sitting on the coffee table, a throw blanket in a pile on the couch, an open book set precariously on the armrest.

It might seem quiet, to outsiders, or anyone other than Quinn really. It’s almost kind of lonely or sad, but it’s home to her. It’s so unlike the crowded Yale campus, or the big cities with bright lights her friends in Glee club now live in, and it’s definitely nothing like Lima. For the first time in a long time, Quinn can confidently say she is at peace.

She puts in her earbuds, taking time to pick a Spotify playlist, before finally settling on one of the recommended playlists, and sits down to lace up her running shoes. The song is familiar, she thinks to herself. It takes her a moment before she realizes it’s one of the many songs she sang in Glee club back in high school. It’s strange—for something that was once such a big part of her life, Quinn hasn’t really thought about the club at all recently.

Singing softly along to the music in her ears, Quinn heads out the door on her daily jog.

She runs five miles every morning, on the same route around the small town, before stopping at the same coffee house for breakfast. She picked up the routine not long after arriving, and it’s something she’s stuck with every day for months now.

The running is a habit she picked back up from her high school days, being something Coach Sylvester insisted each of the girls do every morning. Say what you want about the woman, but she instilled a sense of tenacity in Quinn that definitely helped her through the years.

Quinn likes running. She likes hearing the rhythm of her footsteps pounding on the pavement, the rush of energy she gets from the activity, the crispness of the morning air. It sounds silly, but it makes her enjoy and appreciate life more. She smiles to herself as she makes her way through the neighborhood, waving hellos to neighbors starting their days.

She loops around the town twice, before finally stopping at a café on the main street. The doorbell chimes as she walks in, and the man behind the counter gives her a warm smile.

“The usual again, Quinn?”

She nods gratefully, taking a seat at the counter. “Thanks Frank.”

Frank is a big guy with a full beard, always wearing some sort of flannel shirt. He’s the exact type of guy you’d expect to find at a place like this, but he’s friendly and honestly one of Quinn’s favorite people nowadays. He always makes time to talk to Quinn for a couple minutes in the morning before the shop busies up, and he sometimes lets her have a free muffin.

“So,” he says, pouring Quinn a large paper cup with coffee, “how are you this morning?”

“I’m good,” she says, really believing in her words. “How are you?”

Frank starts talking animatedly about some new type of fancy artisanal coffee the shop is planning to try out, and how he can’t wait for the ski season to start again, because his niece is coming to visit, and she’s been wanting to learn how to snowboard for a while now. Quinn smiles, and hums in response.

“It’s a beautiful day,” he says, handing her the coffee. “Do you think you’re going to get started on your book today?”

Quinn thinks for a second, as he reaches behind the display case to grab her a freshly baked blueberry muffin. “You know what?” She takes a sup of her scalding coffee, “I think I just might."

-

Weeks later, Quinn sits in a booth at the same coffee shop, her laptop and notebook spread out before her, working on her latest project. Even though she has been more than happy with the state of her life as of recent, this is the first time she’s really been passionate about anything since Glee club.

It’s strange, she thinks to herself. She never thought Glee club made such an impact on her life, even to this day. Especially not since she doesn’t really keep up with anyone from high school, other than Santana who insists on checking in every week or so.

Quinn leans back in her comfortable chair, looking out the windows. The leaves outside have fallen completely, and the ground is covered in a thin layer of shining show. The ski season is in full swing now, and the lifts can be seen in the near distance, moving at their slow pace.

It’s beautiful here year-round, but wintertime really makes it all look sort of magical, like she’s living in a snow globe, or Santa’s village, or something of the like. Briefly, Quinn is reminded of someone who would have loved this view, but she simply shakes her head and returns to her work.

Quinn had actually gotten a significant amount of work done on her latest book, though she’s now plagued with a small bout of what people refer to as writers block. She started the book with a vision of where she wants the story to go, but now she isn’t so sure.

She needs some spark of inspiration to get it all going again, though she would be the first to admit her life right now can be kind of boring and monotonous. She likes her life, the routines, the people, the quiet, and the way she feels truly happy in a way she doesn’t think she ever did before, but it’s not exactly the type of thing that inspires a piece of extraordinary literature.

She gently pushes her laptop away from her, reaching for her coffee mug only to realize it’s empty. Before she can even make her way to the counter, Frank is already by her booth with a carafe of the dark liquid.

It’s quiet in the shop right now, indie-folk music playing softly from the speakers. There’s always a lull at the coffee shop during the mid-afternoon, before tourists and locals alike arrive later to remedy their caffeine crash.

“How’s the writing goin’, Quinn?”

“It’s going,” she says, shaking her head and smiling.

He pours the steaming coffee into her cup, filling it to the brim. “You working tomorrow? They’re all missing you out on the slopes.”

“I’m scheduled in tomorrow for a private party,” she shrugs. “It’s some sort of corporate retreat, I think.”

Quinn works during the winter as a ski instructor, something that breaks up the routine of her life, while providing her with a little money on the side. Never in a million years did Quinn ever see herself working at a ski lodge, yet here she is. And the strangest thing, is that she feels like this is where she truly belongs.

“Well good luck,” he says. “Those can be tough.”

The door chimes, and Frank walks away to tend to the new customer, someone who walked in with a flurry of cold air and some indignant comments about the weather. The voice is one Quinn recognizes almost immediately. One that despite not hearing for years, she could never forget. Quinn recognizes the voice—one that isn’t at all boring or monotonous—before even turning around.

“Quinn!” The woman exclaims in surprise, from behind an expensive-looking parka, bundled in a scarf and mittens.

Her mouth suddenly feels dry. She swallows, and takes a deep breath, not sure what she should say. She finally settles on a soft “Rachel.”

Rachel slowly walks up to the booth Quinn is seated at, pulling off the hood of her jacket. “Hi.”

Quinn starts to feel a little faint. Her palms are sweating, and she can feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She shakily tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking nervously up at Rachel. If any time would be a bad time to run into Rachel Berry, this would probably be it. She’s in a pair of old sweatpants with a hole on the knee, and an oversized Yale sweatshirt. Her hair is unwashed, tossed into what she can assume to be something that only vaguely resembles a bun.

On the other hand, Rachel is well put-together as always (something something look the part something), freshly-applied makeup on her skin, and perfectly-curled hair falling down past her shoulders. She tugs her mittens off to reveal freshly manicured fingers, and a small tattoo at the base of her wrist that wasn’t there the last time Quinn saw her. It’s been years since Quinn last saw her.

It’s a funny turn of events really, with Quinn caring so much about appearances back in high school, even going so far as to making fun of Rachel’s sense of dress, which really wasn’t as bad as she made it out to be, looking back on it.

“Rachel,” she finally manages to say. “It’s been—”

“Years, Quinn. It’s been years.” Rachel interrupts Quinn midsentence, and it’s strangely reminiscent of when Rachel would do the same thing back in Glee club, or back when one of them was dating Finn. It’s all so Rachel, and that itself makes Quinn’s heart speed up just a little bit more. “We haven’t talked since—”

And this time it’s Quinn who interrupts Rachel. “New York.”

“Can I sit?”

Suddenly, Quinn’s life is anything but boring and monotonous. And suddenly, Quinn feels like she has a lot to write about.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this while drinking a six pack of beer. never thought i'd be the type to ever write glee fic, but here it is i guess. the idea came to me in a drunken haze, so i don't actually know where i'm going with this. bear with me. 
> 
> tumblr @nostalgics


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